


It's All in the Cards-Four of Swords Reversed

by mphelmsman



Series: It's all in the Cards [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fear, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Post-His Last Vow, Pre-Relationship, Tarot, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mphelmsman/pseuds/mphelmsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has returned to Baker Street but Sherlock finds himself immobilized in indecision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All in the Cards-Four of Swords Reversed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Letters from Sussex - Draft](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4147626) by [sussexbound (SamanthaLenore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaLenore/pseuds/sussexbound). 



> This will be series of one shots based on cards drawn from a Tarot Deck. Tags will be added as necessary. Knowing me the the rating is very likely to change.
> 
> Update: It seems these pieces are connecting together. It may stay that way, it may not.

_**4 of swords upright signals that a period of quiet contemplation in needed to integrate a new system of thought into your daily life. With the card reversed it indicates that the quiet contemplation has gone on too long and it is time to leave the realms of thought and carry out the actions indicated. It also signals that the situation in no longer a period of contemplation but one of stagnation which has become seductive. It is very easy to be beguiled by just thinking of plans of action; it takes more courage to take the next step and actually put a plan in place.** _

 

 

Sherlock sat in his chair, his fingers steepled before his eyes slitted to look closed. Most people would think he was deep in his Mind Palace and oblivious to his surroundings. Certainly John Watson could not tell as he did the washing up this evening. But Sherlock kept his eyes just open enough to observe his doctor move around the kitchen with a familiarity that brought an ache to the detective’s chest.

 

John had returned to 221B just three days ago, carrying only a small knapsack and his laptop. He had set the laptop down next to the armchair that had always been and always would be his and said, "Can I stay?."

 

Sherlock had observed John's exhausted face and defeated stance and had merely replied, "I'll ask Mrs Hudson to get you some linens." It was not what he had wanted to say but when he had tried to say more his throat closed off with fear.

 

So many times while he was away he had wanted to contact John or even just hear his voice for  moment. He had contemplated a dozen different ways to try and set up a secure way to even observe John; but none of them ever seemed secure enough. So he had turned with a will to the task at hand. Making John Watson safe from the mess Sherlock had pitched them both into unthinkingly and disastrously.

 

As his term of self imposed exile lengthened Sherlock had allowed other thoughts to manifest in the most closely guarded rooms of his Mind Palace. In them a John Watson existed who knew the secret that Sherlock had not dared reveal after Baskerville. That night in the Inn haunted him beyond the terror of losing control of his senses. None had ever known the terrors that had manifested after he had driven the doctor away that night. The torture of imagining John Watson disappearing from his life; had forced the detective out into the night, walking and walking as scenario after scenario played in front of his eyes. John kidnapped, John murdered, John packing his bags and leaving 221B, John throwing the word 'freak' into his face. Round and round they had all gone until Sherlock had been shaking with a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

 

They had never left because Sherlock knew that some of those fears were not just possible but likely, certainly Moriarty would not have hesitated to use Sherlock's new found sentiment against him. And that had been the force that had propelled him off the side of a building and into a life where he was not just tracking criminals to bring them to justice but a hunter who methodically eliminated any organization or person who could ever seek to use his feelings for John Watson against him.

 

On some nights though, in some barely bolt holes, or the rare times he had put himself in situations where he was held and interrogated Sherlock would open those precious doors where John had known that he was loved and loved Sherlock in return. Sherlock knew that his body testified to so many times where his enemies had tried to break him but there were many times that he scarcely remembered them. He had simply not been present for them, having fled to the 221B in his mind where a loving Dr Watson had wrapped him in warm blankets, made him his favorite tea, and sheltered Sherlock in an embrace he found hard to leave. Certainly there were times when Sherlock had lost track of whole days under the spell of that glorious fantasy. It had been hard at the last to realize his brother was even present in the cell in Serbia; he had rather have retreated to where John was in his mind.

 

Those fantasies had been twisted by John's reaction to his return. He knew now that he had made a fatal error that night; he had allowed himself to believe those fantasies if not the truth were very close to the truth. All that had shattered as he lay on the floor of the Landmark, the agony in his back not comforted by the doctor but rather made more unbearable as John wrestled him to the floor in his fury. After which, John's voice in his head was no longer caring but rather biting with sarcasm over every action Sherlock had taken. It had sometimes lessened in John's physical presence but the existence of Mary Morstan had underlined John's loyalties and so some nights when Sherlock had marshaled his entire being to providing John and Mary with the best of everything for their nuptials he had almost continuously heard John's voice in his mind tell him how it wasn't enough, it could never be enough, to make up for the pain he had put his beloved friend through. After the wedding it been far too easy to take his shattered heart away and plunge a needle into his veins to try and drown that voice out. even if it had never quite worked.

 

Then Mary Watson had put a bullet into his chest. And in his struggle to survive he had raced through the Mind Palace for John's comforting presence, only to find Mary in her wedding dress shooting him again and again. One did not have to be a genius to interpret that symbolism. Only the demon that lived in the deepest part of his mind, the part of himself that feared becoming another Moriarty, had reminded him that even without John's love he still had a purpose. He could set himself to stand between the man that he adored with his entire being and anything that would disrupt the family life that John had chosen. Even if it was the Doctor's wife, Sherlock would do anything to give John the life he wanted.

 

So he had formulated a narrative that could allow John to think his wife, if not on the side of the angels, at least reformed enough to make a life with. In the months he was recovering he had carefully steered John away from reading the data Mary had handed over. He had begged Mycroft to find a way to examine the files, which had been easy enough for his much smarter brother to arrange undetected. Then when the report had come back that the drive was empty; Sherlock had convinced his friend to never look at it. He had emphasized Mary's pregnant state and how it was possible for even good people to make mistakes and then rebuild their lives to become admirable people. Every sentence made Sherlock feel he was swallowing broken glass but it was for John and John's happiness was of paramount importance.

 

He had almost been grateful for the sentence of a terminal mission after he had eliminated Magnussen. Without his presence in the doctor's life John would eventually forget the events and he would be able to go onto the life of a normal family in the suburbs. Mary would certainly be able to channel John's need for danger so that their family would never be disrupted and was more than capable of protecting them all. She would do anything to keep her husband and her family and that was enough. It had to be.

 

Or he thought, until his recall to service in England by the specter of Moriarty had changed everything. By the end of that day Sherlock had been back at 221B, although advised that he would be under continuous surveillance and guard. More surprisingly John Watson had shown up that very evening and certainly seemed like he never intended to leave. All of which had caused the detective to apportion a good part of his deductive processes to solve the mystery of why John was again living at 221B and whether this move was because he valued Mary more and wanted to keep danger far from her and his unborn child, or that he had finally seen to the heart of Sherlock's actions and desired to explore the path untaken. Did John know Sherlock's battered but still loving heart? Did John care for Sherlock as he cared for him?

  
But John had just asked to stay and Sherlock could not bear the shattering of his hopes again so he sat and watched as John slid back into life at Baker Street. Frozen with indecision, Sherlock could only hope that John would give an unambiguous sign of what he desired, Whichever it was Sherlock Holmes would find a way to bring to him; even if he had to swallow down heartbreak until the end of his days.

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, I am pulling cards from the Robin Wood Tarot Deck.


End file.
